Painted Skies
by RiaKitsuneYoukai
Summary: Katara explains the Festival of The Sun to someone who doesn't understand what it means. -Zutara-


_"It was just like the sun, but more like the moon."  
- Mae  
_

"You ready?"

The young firebender turned from the ever-white scenery to the girl behind him, sighing. She nudged his arm and he took up the strange food she had brought, but before eating it took the time to stare at her -- dark skin, standing out so well against the snow (she looked twice as lovely in her homeland, she decided); her long, chocolate-colored hair left loose to play with the breeze; lips like cherry flowers, opening for green fruit; amazingly blue eyes gazing around... and then at him. Zuko quickly changed his view.

"Ready for what, exactly?" he asked, poking and sniffing the odd food, "You never really clarified."

"For the sun to come back."

He looked up at her again, confusion layering his every feature. Katara smiled softly, moving her small lantern up onto the ledge behind the firebender. She pushed the fruit against her teeth and used her hands to hoist her body beside it. The waterbender shifted so she was comfortable, then removed the food from her lips gesturing for her friend to eat his own. Zuko leaned against the ice and took a small bite.

"Why is thie such a big deal, anyway?" the boy asked, pointing back to the town, where dozens of Water Tribe people mulled about, all busy. Katara swung her legs back and forth, her gloved hands in her lap.

"It's one of the few festivals we have, and it only comes once a year. 'The Rising of The Sun'."

Zuko stared. "The sun rises more than once a year."

"Clearly you don't know how much about the South Pole." He was taken aback by her chuckling, and tried to reply, but she cut him off with a gentle explination: "The world is round, you know, and tilted. Because of the way the earth moves and our location on it, the South Pole is dark for six months out of every year."

"Six months?" he spluttered, the added, "And it's light for the other six?" The waterbender nodded, smirking proudly at their surroundings. Her companion shook his head, taking another small bite of his green, black-seeded fruit.

"What is this?" he pointed a finger at it, and Katara smiled again, rocking slightly in her seat, as though anxious.

"Sea kilri," she said, her tongue rolling over the word in a most amusing way, "It's a traditional food. Apparentally brave tribes-people would dive into the icy water on the longest night--"

"Tribes-people? Not only men?"

"No. We're not like the Northern Tribe; women are as priviledged as any man, here. Actually, women are usually better at swimming in the cold than the guys. Anyway," she stopped to sniff -- the cold air was making both their noses run; "the compeditors would dive deep into the ocean, carrying rocks to make them sink--"

"What about air? brave or not, everyone has to breathe," Zuko commented, his voice skeptical. Katara rolled her bright eyes.

"Most were likely waterbenders and could filter oxygen from the sea. Others... well, Southerners are born with large lungs."

"I'd believe that." The storyteller smacked her friend's head playfully before continuing her explination.

"The sea kilris grow in the coldest parts of the ocean, so it took great stamina to get to them. The idea of the challenge was to grab one and surface first. If there was a tie, the compeditor with the biggest or healithiest kilri won."

"And what if one player had the larger and another the healthiest?"

"I don't know," she answered after a shrug, "We don't fish for kilri anymore. We farm them inland in pools of ice."

Both fell silent for a while.

"How much longer?"

"Not much," the waterbender murmured, her eyes on the village again, "See how that woman doused the fire?" Her companion nodded, frowning.

"It's cold enough with it..."

Katara laughed. "Zuko, this is good weather for the Pole!"

"I'd hate to be here in the winter, then," he snickered, influances by her cheerful mood. The young healer swung her legs again, her eyes on the horizon.

"This celebration..." Zuko started softly, "Is it... like the opposite of the Festival of the Moon?" His friend turned to look at him, her eyes curious.

"That depends on how you celebrate it. I imagine the Fire Nation has a different version."

"I wouldn't know," the prince admitted, shrugging, "I've only read about it in books. The Fire Nation tended not to celebrate other nations'... things... during the war."

She sighed, chewing on her bottom lip (an adorable habit she had picked up from Toph). He compromised; "How does this festival -- and the Moon Festival -- go? For your tribe, I mean."

"The Moon Festival is sort of a depressing thing, because we know a half-year night follows it... maybe a little more depressing since the North Pole..." she looked down at her intertwining fingers, and Zuko nudged her gently with his shoulder. "Well..." she shifted her eyes to him -- they smiled, though her mouth didn't change shape, "We light fires all around the village and sing goodbye to the sun... and sometimes So--" she stopped suddenly, clasping her still-twisted hands against her mouth. Zuko stared as her face paled, turing a lighter brown.

"What's wrong?"

"I almost said something I shouldn't have."

They both were silent for a moment, gauging emotions.

"Katara?"

"Hmm?"

"You can trust me, you know."

"I know," she mumbled, watching her fingers again, "Can... will you promise not to tell anyone?"

"Of course," he promised, shifting so the blood would return to the aching part of his back. She sighed, tucking her legs up against her parka.

"Sometimes, during the festival, when the moon is rising," she whispered, "I can hear Sokka talking to himself and... sometimes crying..."

Zuko bit his tongue to stop a smart remark from escaping. Instead he said, "Why?"

"Remember the Seige of the North? When we fought?"

"We've fought plenty of times," he snorted, "But yes."

"The princess of the Tribe gave her life to replace the moon that night... and Sokka... loved her very much..." the sentance died. Her companion let out a breath and took hold of a few of her fingers, squeezing them to comfort her sad expression. Katara sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, the polar fur tickling her face.

"And the Festival of the Sun?" he prodded softly.

"It's better," she assured, enjoying the warmth he was giving off. She stiffened suddenly, then relaxed, her blue eyes opening to the gold that was bleeding into the black sky and grey clouds.

"Everything is better when my sun comes back."


End file.
